


we're all in the mood for a melody

by thebluewritingbench



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Asami plays the piano, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Korra's in awe, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebluewritingbench/pseuds/thebluewritingbench
Summary: Asami played the piano like she was bending, thought Korra. It reminded her of waterbending, this piece especially; Asami played like she was guiding the music, smooth and fluid. The music was a boat on a river, a lantern in the night.Korra discovers that Asami is something of a musical genius on the piano. It’s like falling in love all over again.
Relationships: Korra/Asami Sato
Comments: 6
Kudos: 99





	we're all in the mood for a melody

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure if this is technically canon compliant bc I don't think pianos exist in the avatar universe, since they're more of a western instrument? But like I know things about playing the piano and I just got really invested in the idea of Asami being able to play the piano so I guess it's a very slight AU? Semantics. 
> 
> I did have a couple pieces in mind while writing this that I was imaging Asami playing if you want to listen along in this order:  
> 1) [Venetian Boat Song by Mendelssohn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxVIYxE9CEI) \- one of my favourites to play  
> 2) [Raindrop Prelude by Chopin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OFHXmiZP38) \- I can't play this sadly but I sure wish I could. Maybe one day
> 
> Anyways hope you enjoy this little self-indulgent piece of work. This is probably going to be part 1 of 2
> 
> Title is from Piano Man by Billy Joel for obvious reasons lol

The radio was on as Korra slipped through the door, classical music drifting down the hallway.

She was home early, for once, or earlier than expected at any rate. Being the Avatar was basically a full-time job, but the hours were abstract—it depended on what the world needed of her at any given moment. Sometimes she was a politician, flitting between the nations to resolve conflicts and sign treaties. Sometimes what the world really needed (whether or not they realized it) was for her to be a criminal on the run. And there were those days, weeks, that were so fast-moving and life-shattering that she never really recovered, with evils bigger than herself to defeat.

Then there were lucky days, lucky months, sometimes, where for a moment everything seemed to have calmed, the world hung in balance for a split second, and Korra could go home early and pretend that she wasn’t the most important person alive. Days where she could lie with her head in Asami’s lap and wax poetry about sweet nothings and smile like she led an ordinary life. 

This was one of those sweet days.

Asami was probably listening to the radio as she worked, thought Korra as she tugged off her shoes. It must have been one of those days she chose to spend working at home—one could only spend so much time around Varrick before spontaneously herniating. Korra loved watching Asami work at home, the way her hair fell messy around her face, the way she got so encapsulated in her work that the rest of the world came untethered. Sometimes she got too caught up, spent too many hours in the office, delved so deep into the depths of her work that she forgot to eat or sleep or come home.

She always came back when Korra called though. Korra could brush her hair aside and kiss the top of her head and whisper _come back Asami_ and Asami would smile and put down her pencil for the day.

Asami was not on the lower floor of the penthouse, which probably meant she was in the living room, papers spread out across the floor and pencils in her hair as she worked. Korra took the stairs three at a time, opening her mouth to call out to Asami as she reached the top.

Her words caught in her throat.

The music that had been playing a soft undercurrent to her thoughts since she walked through the door wasn’t coming from the radio at all. It was coming from _Asami_ , who was _playing the piano._

Korra couldn’t remember ever seeing or hearing anything so beautiful. It was like falling in love all over again.

Truthfully, she’d never payed all that much attention to the instrument before. It usually sat quietly by the window that spanned a full wall of Asami’s penthouse, closed off and covered completely with papers and diagrams and models and pencils, maybe even decorated with a half-eaten sandwich or a vase of wilted flowers. She’d barely noticed it as an instrument, subconsciously acknowledging it as just another storage space for the thousands of papers that filled the place. Asami’s apartment was always so eclectic and cluttered, so full of other wonders, that Korra had barely spared a second glance at the piano.

That was, until now.

The papers had been cleared off, scattered in piles on the floor, and the lid of the grand piano was propped wide open, a silhouette against the dark winter sky in the window beyond. The music seemed to spiral from its depths, moving like water. Asami sat on the bench, her back to Korra, her long, dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail over one shoulder. Korra could see her hands gliding along the keys, flowing with the push and pull of the music she played. Asami herself moved with the music, leaning in and out as though she breathed with the instrument. She played like she was bending, thought Korra. It reminded her of waterbending, this piece especially; Asami played like she was guiding the music, smooth and fluid. The music was a boat on a river, a lantern in the night.

Korra stood, unmoving and mesmerized, until the piece finished, a gentle ending. For a moment the world seemed paused, caught in the final breath of the piece, Asami’s hands still hanging above the keyboard. Then she sighed and dropped her hands in her lap and the spell was broken.

Korra found her voice again. “Wow,” she breathed, and Asami’s shoulder’s stiffened at the sound of her voice. “Just…I—I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Korra,” said Asami, a slight edge to her voice. She was still facing the piano, her head tipped towards her lap. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Korra hummed, crossing to the couch and perching on an arm so she could observe Asami in profile. Asami fiddled with her hands in her lap, not quite meeting Korra’s eyes.

“Seriously,” said Korra. “That was _incredible._ How long have you known how to do that? Why am I _just_ finding out my girlfriend is a genius musician? Here I thought you just had the piano in here for decoration.”

Asami’s mouth twitched. “Thanks, but I’m not a genius. That piece still needs a lot of work, I can’t quite get the trill right…” Her hands hovered over the keyboard, poised to play again as she frowned at the music in front of her. Then she glanced over at Korra, gave her an embarrassed smile and dropped her hands in her lap again. “Well. Never mind.”

“No!” said Korra, leaping up to slide onto the piano bench beside her. “No, no, I want to know more. You can read that?” she pointed to the music, and Asami nodded. “That—that’s amazing! It’s like a whole other language or something. How long have you—when did you learn how to do that?!”

“My dad… I mean, I took lessons back when I was a kid. I never liked it much then; I always hated practicing, I was more the type of kid who wanted to go outside and roll in the dirt. I stopped playing for a few years when I was a teenager, but I picked it back up again in the years that you—while you were gone.”

Korra blinked at her, in awe. How could she have not known this mind-blowingly amazing fact about Asami, which somehow made her even _more_ attractive, until now? “You’ve known how to do that all along? How come I’m just finding out?”

“I don’t…” Asami cleared her throat. “I’ve never liked playing for other people. I started playing again while you were gone because it calmed me down, sometimes, when I was too drawn out from work, or… or life. It’s like… a break for my mind. It helps me breathe.” She looked sideways at Korra, her hair falling into her eyes. “I’m not much of a performer, I mostly just play for myself.”

The smile Asami wore was rueful, and Korra could tell that it still hurt her to talk about the years post-Zaheer, the years they’d spent apart. It had been a painful time for both of them, Korra lost in her depression in the South Pole, Asami working herself raw in Republic City. It was easy to imagine how this might have been one of the only ways Asami hung onto her sanity in those years, the music a less harmful vent than screaming or smashing things—both of which Korra had done, at some point. Korra could tell by the way she spoke that playing the piano was something deeply personal to Asami, that she was asking incredible vulnerability of her for this, but still…

She touched Asami’s cheek with her fingertips, captivated in the way her eyelashes fluttered. “Can you… will you play something else for me? Please?”

“I don’t know, Korra,” said Asami, looking away. Her hands gripped the edge of the piano bench, fingers drumming anxiously. “I really… I don’t like playing with people around.”

“If you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to,” said Korra. “That was just… one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Or seen. It was just… amazing. You’re amazing. And I kind of really want to see you—hear you—do it again. Please? I can sit on the couch and you can pretend I’m not even there!”

The corner of Asami’s mouth twitched. She stared back at Korra for a moment, her eyes thoughtful. “I could never pretend you weren’t here, Korra. You’re too important.”

Korra grinned, looking away.

“But… okay,” said Asami, and Korra looked back at her, ecstatic. “I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me anxious. But I want to play for you. I do. I want to share this with you.”

“Can I sit here, with you?” asked Korra, unable to believe her luck. “I’d be very quiet. I just want to see how it all works!”

Asami laughed. “Don’t push your luck. You’re sitting on the couch, where I can pretend you don’t exist.”

“I thought you said that was impossible!”

“Ehhh. We’ll find out.”

“Rude,” said Korra, shaking her head. She got up from the piano bench and flopped back onto the couch, perfectly willing to sit there if it meant that she got to hear Asami play again. She peeked over the couch arm, grinning at her girlfriend. “So, what are you going to play?”

“Oh,” said Asami, “uh, I don’t know, um. What should I play? What do you want to hear?”

“Anything at all! I don’t mind, I just want to hear you play.” But Asami looked lost, so Korra added, “Play something that you play when you’re happy. Really happy.”

Asami frowned, staring at the keyboard like it held the answers. After a moment she inhaled sharply and stood, walking around the piano to dig in one of her many piles of papers and diagrams. After a moment she pulled out an old, battered looking book, pausing for a moment to touch the cover gently. As she walked back over to the keyboard, she flipped through it, clearly searching.

“Here,” she said, sitting back down on the bench and setting her music on the stand. “This one.” She looked over at Korra with a slight smile, though there was a touch of sadness in the crinkle of her eyes. “I used to play this whenever I got a letter from you. I guess… what you wrote in those letters didn’t always make me happy… I mean, you were having such a hard time and I couldn’t be there for you but… I was always so happy to get your letters. To hear from you. To know you were writing to me.”

Korra was stuck by how lucky she was. Asami made her feel a lot of ways, but right now it was warm, a kind of warmth that started in the depths of her stomach and spread to her toes. “You were always there for me, Asami,” she said.

Asami held eye contact with her for a moment longer, her head tilted, her mouth soft. Then she looked back at the piano. Held her hands over the keyboard—Korra could see the slight tremble of her fingers. She took a deep breath and began to play.

The opening of the piece was beautiful, slow and sweet, but Asami only made it a few notes in before she stopped again, taking her hands off the keyboard with a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t… could you… I don’t know, uh… could you not watch me play, maybe? It makes me nervous to know you’re watching me.”

“Yes, of course!” said Korra. “Um, let me…” She flipped over onto her back, so she was staring at the ceiling instead of Asami. “How’s that? Better?”

“I don’t know… yes, probably. I think so. Okay.” There was an almost panicked edge to her voice.

“Asami,” said Korra, turning back over for a moment to look at her girlfriend. “Breathe, okay? I believe in you. I love you. And besides, I will literally love anything you play. I really don’t know anything about music, anyways. Even if you do everything wrong, I won’t even notice. I’ll think it’s perfect either way, I promise.”

“Okay,” said Asami, eyes fixed on Korra’s. Korra could see her chest rising and falling. “Okay, you’re right. Just… go back to staring at the ceiling.”

Korra complied.

The music started again from the beginning, and Korra closed her eyes to listen. She could hear Asami stumble a couple times in the music—a soft frustrated exhale, a few notes repeated—but as she played the music smoothed out into something warm and dark, rich and red and blue. Korra had never actively listened to music before, but then again, Asami had never played it for her. There was a sweetness to the upper line, something sadder and more sinister in the base.

The piece turned darker, fuller, and Korra could hear the weight Asami was putting into those chords. In her mind’s eyes, she could see Asami playing this piece after receiving one of her letters. Asami ripping the seal open and reading Korra’s sparse words one, twice, before tossing it onto the floor and playing her feelings out until her fingers cramped. She could see the expression on Asami’s face, the firm press together of her red lips, some combination of deep concentration and suppressed pain. The way her brow would unfurrow as she played it once, twice, until the anger and the pain Korra knew their time apart had caused unknit itself into hollow tiredness.

Korra couldn’t resist. Quietly, she opened her eyes and turned to peek over the couch arm at Asami.

Asami looked deep inside her music. Her cheeks were flushed just slightly, her mouth pressed almost exactly into the line Korra had imagined for it, her hair falling messy over her shoulder as her whole body moved with the music. Korra’s eyes drifted to Asami’s fingers, long and agile, watching them move across the keyboard as though in a dance with the way they leapt and converged and dispersed and crossed over one another. Transfixed, she watched as Asami finished her piece, fingers slowing to play the last sweet chords.

When the final chord released, Asami let her hands float over the keyboard again for a moment, then dropped them into her lap again. Korra let the silence hang, watched the gears in Asami’s head turn and turn.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch,” said Asami finally, her eyes still on her lap but her lips in a faint smile.

“I wasn’t,” said Korra. “I just wanted to—needed to see you play.”

Asami said nothing.

“Can I come sit with you again, now?” asked Korra.

Asami nodded.

Korra got up slowly from the couch and crossed back to the piano, scooting onto the bench so Asami had to shift to the left a bit to accommodate her. She reached over to take Asami’s hands, still clutched together in her lap.

“Your hands are shaking,” said Korra, holding one up to her cheek.

Asami watched the motion of her hand, following it to Korra’s cheek and then meeting her eyes. In the dim evening light, Asami’s eyes were as soft as moss. “I was nervous,” she said.

Korra could still see the tension in Asami’s shoulders, the still shallow rise and fall of her chest. Still pressing Asami’s hand to her cheek, Korra gently tugged her forward into a kiss, slow and sweet. When they broke apart Korra touched her forehead to Asami’s, laughing slightly.

“What?” said Asami, but she was laughing too.

“Just…” said Korra, “you’re incredible. And I love you. So much. Thank you for playing for me.”

Asami pulled back to look her in the eye, brushing her thumb across Korra’s cheekbone. “I love you, too. I wouldn’t play for just anyone, you know.”

“I feel honoured.”

“You should.”

“I mean it!” she paused, drinking in Asami’s laugh, still holding Asami’s hand to her face. It had stopped trembling now, and Korra squeezed it a little. “Will you—do you think you’ll play for me again, sometime?”

“Yes,” said Asami. “I’d like to. Maybe not tonight, but sometime.”

“Good. I’m glad. I love you.”

“You said that already,” grinned Asami.

“I know. It’s still true.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Do you want dinner?” asked Korra. “We could order in, tonight.”

“That sounds perfect,” said Asami, and gently shut the piano lid.

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a standalone but I'm planning on posting a second Asami POV part next week because I have more ideas so stay tuned! Leave me a comment if you enjoyed! Thanksss  
> [tumblr](https://thebluewritingbench.tumblr.com/)


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